State of Grace
by ViviRose91
Summary: When Deb is the target of a gang and her home becomes a crime scene, she must move somewhere safe. When Joey Quinn agrees to take Deb in, will they be able to set aside their anger at each other and find that sometimes the best things are the things you never saw coming? Rated T for Deb's language and steamy Deb/Quinn scenes!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I do not know much about criminology or forensics so I apologize if my facts about some things are a bit off or inaccurate. I do not own Dexter in anyway. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!**

**State of Grace  
_"This is a state of grace, this is a worthwhile fight." - Taylor Swift, State of_ Grace  
Chapter One:  
**

"You know," Dexter said, leaning back slightly in the hard, wooden chair, "It's not safe for you to go back to your house now."

Deb winced, coddling her side in her palm, "I know that," she said through gritted teeth, "That is why I will be staying with you. At the apartment."

"I...I don't know if that's such a good idea..." Dexter decided the splotch of chipping plaster on the wall opposite of him was a better thing to focus his eyes on than to stare directly at his sister, "I mean...with Harrison and all."

"Harrison can go to Orlando."

"His grandfather is still recovering from that heart attack he had last month, Deb. Between Astor and Cody...it just wouldn't be a good idea to send Harrison there too."

"So where the fuck am I supposed to go?" Deb tried to shift her weight against the hospital bed and let out a soft gasp, surprised at the pain, "Fuck, Dexter! I get shot and apparently my own fucking house isn't safe and I can't fucking live with you because I'd be putting Harrison in danger...where the fuck am I supposed to go?"

Dexter sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Deb had a point. Where was she supposed to go? It wasn't her fault that she had been the target of new Cuban gang. Deb, being Deb, had refused to move out of her house. Dexter tried to convince her to stay in a motel under an assumed name, but she wouldn't do it. 'I won't be a fucking victim. If these cock-sucking mother-fucks think I am going to run away with my tail tucked under my ass...' had been her exact words. So she had stayed in her house. And things had been fine for the first few days since the gang had sent her the first message at one of the crime scenes. But two nights ago, after getting home from work and popping open a beer, there had been a drive-by. Her house was riddled with bullets. One caught Deb right in the side.

The cops stationed outside notified dispatch. They had gotten by thanks to bullet proof vests. But Deb was not quite so lucky. An ambulence arrived a few moments later and rushed her to Passion of the Sacred Heart Hospital. She had to undergo emergency surgery to extract the bullet. It had almost hit her spleen. She had to have a blood transfusion as well due to the copious amount of blood lost.

Now, she was stuck in a hospital bed with two uniforms stationed outside her hospital room door. Only doctors and nurses and Dexter were allowed to pass. According to the doctor's she had to wait the remainder of the week just for observation. Then she'd be discharged to go home.

But her home was now a crime scene and staying with Dexter meant putting him and Harrison in the line of fire as well. She knew she couldn't do that. Of course, she could get a motel like had been the original suggestion. She could use an assumed name. Wait for Metro to finally get what they needed to nail those bastards. But she was scared. Not that she'd ever say it out loud. But she was really scared. The thought of being alone in a strange motel horrified her.

"We'll think of something," Dexter promised, "Why don't you eat your jello?"

"I'll tell you where you can put that jello," Deb winced again, the pain visible on her face.

"When do you get more morphine?" Dexter asked.

Deb nodded towards a white board on the wall. It was a schedule of nurses and pain meds and antibiotics. She still had another two hours to go before she was allowed to have more morphine. Dexter hated seeing her in pain. He saw pain everyday - caused others to feel pain - but with Deb, it was different. With Deb, he'd kill to take her pain away. He felt useless just sitting in that wooden chair. He should be out hunting the members of the Los Rojo Brothers. That's what he should be doing. He should have them on his table, wrapped in plastic. Not sitting here trying to get Deb to eat her jello and swallow her chicken broth.

"Fuck, Dexter," Deb shook her head, "Fuck."

"Look, Deb...I have to get back to work. I'll let everyone know you say hi."

"Whatever," Deb rolled her head to the side.

"I'll be back to check on you later. You really should eat your jello..."

"Fuck you and fuck the Christ-fucking-jello!"

Dexter gave her a small wave and left her hospital room. He took a deep breath once outside in the hallway. He felt like he could finally breathe again. He just needed to get away. Focus his attention on something other than seeing Deb in pain. When he arrived back at Metro, everyone was eager to hear about Deb's condition.

LaGuerta ushered Dexter to the middle of the briefing room and said, "I am sure we all want to know how our Lieutenant is doing. Dexter, will you please give us all an update before we start the briefing?"

Dexter nodded curtly, "Deb is still recovering quite well. She is mostly...frustrated with her situation than anything. And she wishes she were here helping catch the guys that did this to her..." Dexter caught Angel's gaze, and his friend nodded solemnly, making a silent oath that they would catch them for her, "Right now though...she does not really have a place to go home to once she is discharged."

"Can't she stay with you?" LaGuerta asked, a touch of annoyance in her tone.

"No, not with my son being there. I could normally send him to his grandparents, but this isn't a good time. If it wasn't for Harrison, she could stay with me. Wherever she stays, she's going to need tighter security."

"She could stay with me. There's...only one bed though," Masuka grinned, then suddenly became embarrassed with himself and took to staring at the tile flooring.

"Alright," LaGuerta stood next to Dexter, clasping her hands together, "Lieutenant Morgan is one of our own. One of us would be more than happy to have her stay with us for her own safety, until we catch the Los Rojo Brothers and put a stop to their terror."

There was a silence that fell over everyone. Dexter knew all too well that Deb was difficult to put up with. Especially a frustrated Deb in a lot of pain. He pitied the poor soul who's task it would be to put her up. Whoever it would be would have to know how to handle her without getting frustrated or snapping and murdering her. Dexter's gaze fell on Joey Quinn. Joey reluctantly looked up. When he saw Dexter had been starring...

"Oooh no," he held up his hands in surrender, "I am not opening up that can of worms."

"She needs a place to stay," Dexter plead, "And your place is pretty secure. We would station uniforms...right?"

"Of course," LaGuerta nodded, "Security for Lieutenant Morgan is a priority right now. We will up the security. It will just be until she's safe to return to her own home. And if I remember," LaGuerta smiled one of those lethally overly sweet smiles, "you two had a nice...friendship."

Joey rolled his eyes. He knew he was going to do the right thing. But that didn't mean he couldn't put up a little fight about it first, "I don't know if it's the best idea for her to stay with me right now..."

"Of course it is," Angel grinned, clapping his partner on the back, "She trusts you. She knows your place well. She would hopefully feel almost as safe there as she would at Dexter's."

"It'd just be for a couple of weeks, tops," Dexter rocked on his heels, "What do you say?"

Joey sighed, deciding to put on some theatrics before agreeing. He folded his arms over his chest and shook his head, "Fine. Deb can stay with me at my place."

"Alright!" Masuka raised his hand for a high-five from Quinn, "Gettin' it!"

Quinn squinted at him, giving him his best side-eye, "Go play with your slugs or something."

"Slugs, got it," Masuka lowered his hand.

"Thank you, Quinn," Dexter nodded towards him, "That means a lot."

"Sure," Joey rolled his eyes again. As he returned to his desk, he shook his head. _The hell did I just get myself into. _


	2. Chapter 2

**State of Grace  
****_'This is a state of grace, this is a worthwhile fight." - Taylor Swift, State of_ Grace  
****Chapter Two:**

"What the fucking Jesus fuck, Dexter?" Deb was trying to raise her voice as best she could without causing herself even more pain.

"I'm sorry, Deb, but Quinn is the best option. You can't stay with me. We've been through that. Angel has Jamie living with him. I can't imagine you and LaGuerta getting along well with one another..."

"I'd probably asphyxiate on her perfume," Deb rolled her eyes, "And the only person really left would be either Maskua, or...Quinn."

"Exactly."

"Damn it, Dex. I think I'd rather get a motel room."

Dexter rubbed the back of his neck, trying to figure out what would be best to say to her. He understood her anger. She and Quinn hadn't ended things on the best terms. He still thought her rejection towards his proposal was because she felt better than him. And he had spent all of his time trying to hurt her back. Dexter had heard the horrors of her house-warming party. Quinn had showed up, drunk, with a girl on his arm.

He also became notorious for showing up to crime scenes, hung over, in the car of another girl he'd just met - all in hopes of making Deb feel what he felt when she had said no. The more Dexter thought about it, the more he wondered if this might not have been the best decision. Maybe Harrison could have stayed with Jamie at Angel's for those few weeks.

"Deb...I'm sorry."

"Shove your sorries in a cum sack," Deb spat back. Then softened, "I know you're just trying to help, Dex. I do. I know I can't be on my own right now. I can barely move on my own without feeling like my side is ripping apart. I also...I don't want to be alone. It fucking terrifies me," Deb choked back a sob with a laugh, "I need someone and if that someone is Joey fucking Quinn, so be it."

When Deb was released from the hospital, Joey and Dexter both arrived to pick her up. She was sitting in a wheel chair in one of Rita's old cotton sundresses. When Dexter and Quinn walked in, she glowered at them as if she were trying to bury them six-feet under with just her stare.

"Nice dress," Quinn quirked an eyebrow.

"Fuck off. Dexter, what the hell? A sundress?"

"The doctors said to bring you something loose-fitting. You'd be more comfortable in that, than you would be in a t-shirt and jeans. I'm sorry, Deb. Really. But it's all there was. I mean...unless you wanted me to bring you one of my under shirts or something."

Quinn spoke up, "I have some basketball shorts and baggy t's you can borrow while you're staying at my place," he suggested, "The hippie dress just isn't working on you."

"Thanks," Deb rubbed her temples, "Can we please just get me out of here. If I have to even so much as look at a plastic bowl of green jello again, I am going to puke all over someone."

"Your chariot awaits," Dexter said, wheeling her out of her hospital room, "We have to go out the back docking area for safety reasons," he explained, "A nurse is meeting us at the service elevator."

Deb hated this. She hated feeling so controlled and so helpless. She felt that her every move was monitored, and it was. And now she was stuck in a horrible floral sundress because Dexter couldn't think far enough to suggest undershirts and even a pair of his boxers. At least Joey would give her t-shirts and basketball shorts. Why was it that Joey Quinn was more capable of thinking up stuff like that than Dexter?

When they got to Quinn's car, Dexter helped Quinn load Deb into the passenger seat.

"I have legs, ya know," Deb glowered.

"Will you be alright?" Dexter asked.

"Sure," Deb shrugged, "Me and my good ol' buddy Quinn will get along great. We will watch movies and braid each other's hair and eat Ben and Jerry's straight from the tub!"

Quinn shook his head, his jawline tightening as he turned his key in the ignition, "Thanks," he said to Dexter, "I am sure she will keep in touch over these next few days."

"Counting on it," Dexter shut the passenger door, and waved goodbye as Joey backed out of the parking space. Deb was glaring out the passenger side window, her mouth locked lightly shut. She was clearly going to make no effort to break the ice. And why should she - after all, Quinn was the one being a total fuck nut about everything. She still hadn't forgiven him for all that bullshit. Nor was she planning on forgiving him any time soon. She just needed to get through these next couple of days.

"Let's get you home and get you out of that dress," Quinn said, not taking his eyes off the road.

"How many times have you said that sentence in the past week?" Deb smirked, "I'm going to go with a whopping...fifteen?"

"Not like that," Quinn rolled his eyes, not even correcting her about her comment. What was the point of trying to argue with Deb anyway? He knew better than to try to argue with her. Still, it kept him entertained sometimes, "You know...I could take a photo of you in that dress when we get to my place. Use it for blackmail. Get the lieutenant of Miami Metro to bend to my every beck and call..."

"Fuck off."

Quinn smirked. He didn't know why he loved getting under her skin so much. But it was becoming one of his favorite hobbies.

"Alright, alright," Quinn turned down the radio, "How are you?"

"How am I?" Deb turned to him in disbelief, "How the shit balls do you think I am, Quinn? I just got shot, no thanks to those asshole Los Rojo Brothers. I can't even go home to my own house, and my own brother doesn't want me to stay with him because I am a danger to his fucking kid. I have to go stay with you of all people. Don't you dare ask me how I am right now."

"Alrighty then."

"If you must know," Deb sighed, "It fucking sucks. And I feel like a burden."

"You aren't a burden," Quinn told her, hating the fact that she felt that way, "Really. It's fine. I don't mind you staying with me as long as you promise not to drive me completely crazy while you are."

A small fraction of a smile crossed Deb's face for the first time in a long, "Well, not completely."

They rode the rest of the way to Quinn's in silence. When they got there, he helped her out of the car and to his door. Once inside, he dropped the bag that Dexter had brought at the doorway and shut the door behind them. Deb glanced around. It looked about the same. Just...messier. Quinn had always been neat. She had been the tornado sweeping through everything. Now she couldn't help but notice the messy dishes in the sink and coffee grounds scattered on the counter of the kitchen. There was a pink lacy bra hanging over a lamp shade.

"When did you finally hit puberty?" Deb asked, pointing at the bra.

"Shit," Quinn left her side and dashed over to pluck it off of the lamp shade, "I'm sorry about that..."

"Don't be," Deb allowed herself to smile again, "pink always looked good on you."

"Shut up," Quinn picked up her bag, "You're crashing in the bedroom."

"Quinn...couch is fine. Really."

"Nope. Not having it. You're going to sleep in the bedroom. On the new Egyptian Cotton sheets I got last week."

"I hope they're washed."

"They are," Quinn assured her, "C'mon, why don't you get unpacked and I'll bring you some t-shirts and basketball shorts. You're fucking gorgeous, but that sundress does you no favors."

Deb turned to him, cocking her head to the side. She was taken back by what he had said, and she could tell he was too. Quinn's cheeks turned a brighter pink than the lacy bra. He grasped the back of his neck and nodded towards the bedroom door, "Let me just uh...get you those things."

"Yeah, do that," Deb stared after him, suspiciously before following him into the bedroom.

God this is weird - Deb thought, glancing around Quinn's bedroom. She thought back to the last time they were in his bedroom together. The memories hurt worse than the hole in her side, and Deb had to bite down on her lip to take the pain away. Quinn was digging through his dresser and emerged with a stack of plain t-shirts and several basketball shorts. He set them on the top of the dresser.

"They'll be a bit big," he said, in reference to the basketball shorts, "but they have a draw string so you can adjust them."

"Thank you," Deb said, no bitterness in her voice this time, "Will you give me a moment to uh...change. I won't be long."

"Oh, no. No problem. I'll go order us something for dinner. Just come out when you're ready."

Deb nodded. Quinn left, shutting the door behind him. She sat down on the edge of the bed, running her hands along the gray comforter. Her head begin to spin as she thought back to all the time they'd spent together in that bed. _This is a mistake, _Deb told herself, _it's not fucking supposed to be like this! I wasn't supposed to get shot in my own home. And I wasn't supposed to lose my home because of it. I'm not supposed to be here. I am not supposed to be here with Quinn! _


	3. Chapter 3

**State of Grace  
****_'This is a state of grace, this is a worthwhile fight." - Taylor Swift, State of_ Grace  
Chapter Three:  
**

Deb unbuttoned the small, white, shell buttons of the undress. She couldn't wait to get the damn thing off of her. She couldn't believe Dexter had chosen a sundress. When it came time to pull it over her head, she winced and cried out. The pain in her side was unimaginable. She fell back on to the bed, cursing the dress. It was hardly a second later when the bedroom door flew open and a harried Joey Quinn stood in the doorway.

"Deb! Are you okay? What happened?" He ran to her, kneeling down in front of where she sat on the edge of the bed.

"I'm...I'm okay," Deb felt more embarrassed than anything at this point as the pain began to subside, "I just...I tried to pull my dress off and it fucking hurt really bad. I can't even fucking take my own dress off."

Quinn frowned, pushing himself up from the floor, "Let me help you."

"God, I feel so stupid. What butt-fuck can't even get out of a dress on their own?"

"Not a butt-fuck," Quinn rolled his eyes, "Just someone who's been shot, has had to have surgery, and is in a lot of pain. Now then, Dexter left me your schedule of your medicine. You can take another Vicodin in an hour and a half. I also noticed he specifically said you are to have a liquid diet. So there goes ordering dinner."

"You can still order something."

"Nah," Quinn lifted the dress over her head, "I'm not going to have you eating chicken broth alone. I have some Campbell's in the pantry. We can have that for dinner tonight."

"Fuck that," Deb rolled her eyes as Quinn pulled the baggy t-shirt over her head, "You're going to order something for yourself. I am going to choke down my soup. But you aren't going to suffer along with me. I've already put you through hell by having to stay with you..."

"Whoa," Quinn held up a hand as Deb shimmied into a pair of basketball shorts, "Who says you're putting me through hell? It's not so bad having you here. You aren't being a complete pain in the ass."

"Yet," Deb added, "You'll get sick of me."

"I could never get sick of you," Quinn said in all honesty. He hated seeing this side of her - the sadness and frustration. Normally when Deb was upset, she could put on this angry mask and the whole tough act. But not this time. She couldn't even hide how horrible she felt about her situation. Quinn hated seeing her like this. He'd do anything to make it as better for her as he possibly could. Deb sat back on the edge of the bed. She looked exhausted. Quinn wondered how long it had been since she was able to get a good night's rest.

"Everyone gets sick of me."

"Not true," Quinn sat down next to her, hoping that that was an okay thing for him to do. It was always so hard to tell now. Things used to be easy with Deb. He didn't have to think. Now, he had to think about every move he made. "You aren't that obnoxious," Quinn smirked, "Sure, you can be a slight pain in the ass, but who doesn't like a little pain every now and then? C'mon, I don't mind you being here."

"Are you sure?" Deb met his eyes. Quinn was always there for her. Not even Dexter was there for her like Joey Quinn was. And even after all this time, he was still there for her. His smile could still make her feel grounded. And for a brief moment, he made her forget about the pain in her side. _Joey Quinn is fucking better than Vicodin. Ain't that a hoot?_

"Positive. Why don't we get you to the couch and you can find us a movie to watch. Anything. Your choice. I'll order pizza for myself I guess. Tomorrow, I can pick you up some chocolate pudding. How's that sound? Better than green jello?"

"Anything would be better than green jello," Deb let herself smile.

Quinn helped Deb get to the sofa. He rearranged the pillows for her to lean against. He handed her the remotes and set up the movie guide for her to select from, then went to order the pizza. Deb scrolled through the movies, trying to find something. Nothing appealed to her. Not even her usual favorites. When Quinn returned from the kitchen, he sat down next to her.

"What movie will it be?" He asked.

"Nothing at this rate."

"You always find a movie."

"Nothing sounds good."

"Not even your favorites? The day Dexter said you needed a place to stay, I went out and bought the box set of the first three Saw movies..."

"The only good ones," a small smile crossed Deb's face, "Alright. Saw I it is then."

"Excellent choice," Quinn grinned, retrieving the DVD, "Let's wait until the pizza gets here to start this. I'll fix some soup for you."

"Thank you, Quinn."

"No problem. Just make yourself at home." Quinn winced as he made his way back to the kitchen. At one time, that was exactly what she had done. She'd moved in most of her things. Made the place a whirl wind of clothes and plates of crusty food and empty beer bottles. It had driven him crazy. She had driven him crazy. Now he'd give anything for her mess to be scattered about again. He had to admit, having her here again was nice. Even if it was under pretty shitty circumstances.

Quinn's pizza arrived soon and he fixed himself a few slices and a bowl of soup for Deb. Deb started up the movie and scowled as Joey took a bite of his pizza, "Stop being a fucking cock-tease."

"Hey," Quinn pointed at her, "you were the one who told me to order pizza for myself!"

"Yeah, I didn't expect you to eat it right in front of me."

"Oh, alright. I'll just go stand in the fucking closet to eat my pizza," Quinn rolled his eyes, "Shut up and eat your soup."

"Fuck you."

"I could mush up a slice in the food processor. Pizza flavored baby food!"

"I'm going to puke."

"Watch the leather sofa if you have to," Quinn shook his head, taking the remote from her and selecting "Start" on the display screen.

Deb lifted a spoonful of the broth to her lips. She couldn't help but think to herself - _this is nice. This really is nice. Me and Joey sitting on the couch eating dinner and watching movies. It's almost like old times. Except...it's fucking not. I have a hole in my side and we aren't together and everything fucking sucks. But without all of that, then yeah. This would almost feel like old times._

They watched the movie for a while until Deb started holding her side and her breathing began to sound pained. Quinn jumped up from the couch and grabbed her her pain meds, "Deb, I'm so sorry. I lost track of the time. I forgot you could have some more pain meds."

"It's...alright," Deb winced, holding out her hand as he shook two vicodin into her palm.

"No it's not. I can't believe I was so stupid!"

"Quinn," Deb tried to calm him back down, "It's fine. Really. I'm in constant pain. The vicodin just makes it not so extreme. I'm okay. Being a couple of minutes late on my pain meds isn't going to fucking kill me. Chill. You're making me all nervous."

"I just don't like seeing you like this...in pain." He sat back down next her, propping his elbows on his knees, "I feel like I should be doing more. I want to take all this shit away from you Deb - the pain, the frustration. I hate not being able to do enough for you."

"Quinn..." Deb leaned back against the couch cushions, tucking her feet underneath her, "Why do you feel like you have to do all of that for me? I am not your problem anymore. You don't have to take care of me anymore."

Quinn laughed humorlessly, "Deb, when will you finally get it? I'm _always_ going to want to take care of you."


End file.
